


Parry and Riposte

by dezolis



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Canon, Anal Sex, Banter, Episode Ignis Verse 2, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-26 02:30:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19758766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dezolis/pseuds/dezolis
Summary: There’s nothing like a good sparring session to relieve stress.  With Ignis and Ravus, it tends to create another kind of tension.  They’ll just have to find a way to relieve that too.





	Parry and Riposte

Most people wouldn’t consider a long trip across daemon infested lands and waters to be much of a vacation. Most people don’t have the duties Ignis has taken on in Lestallum. Raised to be the advisor of the king, Ignis now serves as one of the de facto leaders of the city that has become the heart of Lucis in the two years since Noctis entered the Crystal. He has a mind and the training for the logistics of housing, feeding and protecting the populace. He just doesn’t have the passion for it. Stuck for hours in an office pouring over and composing reports, he envies Gladio and Prompto’s freedom to join the hunters on their expeditions. Attending meeting after meeting with power plant officials, city engineers, farmers and everybody else that keeps the city running reminds him of the others he’d like to be interviewing for the project that’s nearest and dearest to his heart.

Hence this trip to Tenebrae - daemons or not - being the best vacation Ignis can hope for.

Traveling gets easier once he and the hunters who came with him arrive in the country proper. Tenebrae’s isolated position and sparse population turned out to be a boon when the endless night fell. With fewer people to turn, the fewer daemons to spawn and the handful that did appear were felled by the sword and lightning of the country’s king as he gathered up the survivors to come live in the restored Fenestala Manor. 

That too is a part of Ignis’s vacation plans. The king, not the big,fancy house.

Like all the other times he’s been here, Ignis is greeted with more pomp and ado than he believes is appropriate for his station. It’s Ravus’s doing and complaining about it only gets him a lecture on the importance of maintaining propriety in order to maintain a sense of normalcy. Sassing back on the lecture results in everybody calling him Lord Scientia for the remainder of his stay. It’s a home field advantage Ignis can’t overcome so he goes along with the fuss. After being on the road so long, it is nice to be pampered. He’s offered a glass of wine and a jacket in Tenebraen white to replace the grimey one he wore here. It does behoove one to look nice when visiting royalty.

He’s ushered to Ravus’s study after he’s suitably wined and refined. Ignis swears he sees the quirk of a grin on Ravus’s lips as the servant who escorted him takes a good half minute to announce him. When the servant is finally through, Ravus thanks him and waves Ignis over to the chair in front of his desk. Going by the stacks of paper surrounding him, Ravus is going to be a sympathetic ear to Ignis’s own complaints about desk duty.

Then again, Ravus is always good with listening to Ignis.

“I do believe that’s a new record,” Ignis says. “I’m not officially Lestallum’s city manager though, so that’s somewhat of a cheat.”

“You manage the city, do you not? Cellarius was describing your duties, not listing your titles.”

“That’s not the proper methodology for introducing one to a royal. Are your standards slipping?”

Ravus takes a long, appraising, head to toe look at Ignis. “I think my standards are impeccable.”

“Well, now,” Ignis says through a smile, “I can hardly argue with that.”

They get the regular business out of the way first. Status reports on Lestallum and Tenebrae to give, a review of the supplies Ignis brought from the city to keep the country’s power going, that sort of thing. Neither man enjoys this kind of work but they’re both accustomed to it so it’s soon finished.

Next is the irregular business of Ignis’s progress on finding an alternative ending to a two thousand year old divine decree in order to save Noctis’s life. This takes considerably longer. In part because Ignis insists on painstaking assessment of every ruin searched, every ancient text read and every theory researched to see if Ravus can offer a different perspective or find something that was missed Also, there’s the moral support. Calling the task daunting would be a euphemism of historic levels. One of the things that make it easier is Ravus’s absolute certainty that if it is possible to find a way, Ignis is tenacious enough to do it. Other descriptors given were implacable and pig-headed but Ignis choses to stick to the words with the nicer connotations.

Ravus has set aside a few books he thought would be of use. When he gets up to fetch them, Ignis notices he’s walking with a hint of a limp. 

“It’s nothing,” Ravus insists over Ignis’s alarm. “A minor injury taken a few weeks ago when we were evacuating a settlement in the northern hills. It’s nearly healed but sitting still for hours on end causes the muscle to tighten.”

“Then maybe you should have said something before we spent hours on end talking.” As much as Ignis himself would like to get out and flex his own muscles fighting daemons and rescuing survivors, he doesn’t like anyone he cares about getting injured when they do it. That’s probably why Ravus didn’t mention it. Ignis’s mother hen instincts would have kicked in and wouldn’t have been satisfied with anything less than a full medical review.

“Let me tell you about the books while we walk in the garden,” Ravus suggests. “You can see I’m not horribly maimed while getting the information you need.”

The gardens of Fenestala Manor are beautiful at night. Technically, it’s late afternoon but there are some perks to an oppressive darkness falling upon the world. The gardens are lit by lanterns as the high-powered lights are reserved for the manor’s perimeter to keep daemons at bay. It would be an amazingly romantic setting if not the clangs and clunks ringing out from the crowd of future hunters getting their practice sessions in.

Being home to the Oracle, Tenebrae never was much known for martial prowess. Being a territory of Niflheim, it wasn’t allowed to do much about that either. But in this new world, her people are trying. Ignis picks out a few with genuine natural talent. Most of the others will get up to snuff with enough practice. The remainders - well, they’re a dedicated lot. That’s got to count for something. 

Ravus can’t disagree with this assessment. He does offer a suggestion. “Perhaps if they saw a demonstration from one well versed in combat It could be quite educational and inspirational.” He’s not talking about himself.

“Making a guest perform,” Ignis says. “Payback for the critique or do you just want to watch me fight?”

“I would do it myself if not for the injury,” Ravus answers with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Unfortunately, my people will have to make do with a lesser exhibition.”

_Lesser exhibition_. Those were riling words. It’s both reasons then. All right. Having a rude host doesn’t mean Ignis will be a rude guest. He’ll just have to put on a show that’ll hold Ravus’s rapt attention and teach the man how to behave.

He picks out the two best fighters to spar against while Ravus explains to the crowd what they’re about to see. He keeps the description of Ignis’s combat prowess above the board though ‘lithe’ sticks out. It’s not wrong and Ignis is happy to show it.

The weapon of choice is staffs, something easy for the beginners to wield. Ignis lets them take a couple of swings before he disarms both of them to ohs and ahs from the audience. The backflip he does on the second round leading into a sweep that drops one opponent to the padded ground gets rave reviews as well. Ignis sneaks a look at Ravus, who stands with his arms crossed and his expression indifferent until the last opponent standing takes advantage of the distraction to take a thwack at him. Ignis manages another disarm but while the crowd applauds, Ravus remains unimpressed. To be fair, he has seen better acrobatics from Ignis. 

There’s two more rounds and then everyone’s ready to call it a day. Once they’re alone, Ignis returns to Ravus’s side with staff in hand, offering praise for the promise his sparring partners showed despite their loss and fishing for a compliment for how well he did.

As Ignis had learned from watching Noctis, there are fish that just will not take the bait. “How kind of you to fight at such a subpar level to give them a chance,” Ravus says.

“I thought I’d do well enough to entertain but I didn’t want to ruin them for any future demonstrations. How often does Tenebrae see someone of my skill?”

“Or arrogance.”

“Oh, I think they see that quite a lot.”

Ravus laughs. That’s a nibble. Then he goes to pick up a staff for himself. “You know, I think my leg is feeling better. A simple spar would be good for it.”

Not what he was going for but a catch is a catch. Time to reel him in. “In deference to your injury, I’ll be gentle.”

“That will be different.”

“Some ground rules. First to three points wins. Light taps only. Grappling is acceptable, but only to down. No holds. No choking.’

Ravus tilts his head. “Very different.”

“Should we make it interesting?”

“I suppose being defeated quickly would be boring for you.”

“I meant a wager. An incentive for the winner.”

“Such as?”

“Whoever comes out on top...” Ignis ponders, “...comes out on top.”

“Did you propose this wager so I’d think your impending loss is deliberate on your part?”

“Oh, I’m in a winning mood tonight.”

It’s a pensive start of careful steps in a circle as they size each other up. Ignis should have the advantage. Though fighting with a pole arm is different than a staff, it’s vastly different than using a rapier. Ravus’s injury is in his favor too. It’s almost unfair how swiftly a man of Ravus’s size can move, but the injury should slow him and leave Ignis a tick faster.

Should. It doesn’t. Ravus takes the first strike, a jab with the top of the staff towards Ignis’s right shoulder that turns into smack with the other end against his left thigh after Ravus spins around him. 

“You wouldn’t have perchance faked your injury to get me off guard?” Ignis asks.

“Nonsense. One point to none.”

Ignis stays on the defensive. He’s fought with Ravus enough to know the other man’s style. Fast and aggressive. He can counter the fast if he stays alert. The aggressive tends to lead to exploitable openings. True to form, Ravus takes multiple swings with Ignis countering them all until a loud crack signals an impact so harsh, it numbs Ignis’s hands. Oh yeah, the strength advantage goes to Ravus by a wide margin. Another hit and the staff tumbles from Ignis’s grip. It’s followed by a tap on his arm.

“Two points to none,” Ravus announces.

Ignis bends over to retrieve his staff, slowly to get time to collect himself. One more point and he’s done. Given the stakes, it’s not really a loss per se, but Ravus is going to be _so_ smug about it.

He already is. When Ignis straightens up, he sees the smirk on Ravus’s face. 

“Honestly, I don’t know why you bothered moving.”

All right, it’s the principle now. The combination of Ravus’s strength and speed is formidable but it can be turned against him. So can the two to nothing score. Ignis would bet anything Ravus will go for a quick victory for the extra bragging rights. Let him think he’s close and it’ll be two to one before Ravus knows it.

He comes after Ignis in a rush, forcing him to bring the staff up across his body in a block. Ravus takes another swing that’s meant to stun him like on the last point, but Ignis weaves to his right, barely missing the blow. It throws Ravus off for a second, which is plenty of time for Ignis. A tap to Ravus’s side and the score is exactly what Ignis thought it would be.

That’s worth a celebratory gibe. “You’re so predictable.”

“Is that why the lead is still mine?”

“For now.”

This time Ignis moves first. He begins with attacks he counts on being blocked to set up one that won’t be. Unfortunately, Ravus is not cooperating. He steadfastly refuses to move in the direction Ignis is trying to drive him in. 

“You were saying something about predictability?” Ravus asks.

Plan B - a wild, full body swing to interrupt the gloating. Ravus staggers back, eating his words and the sting of a tied score when Ignis’s staff brushes against his shoulder.

“I believe that makes us even.”

“You happened to land a glancing blow while flailing about. I believe that was luck.”

“Fortune favors the bold,” Ignis says with a shrug.

“And the foolish.”

“Good, that means you still have a chance.”

They square up for the final point. Ravus is all business. Ignis doubts he cares about the stakes either, but losing after being up two to none won’t sit well with him. It wouldn’t with Ignis. Neither would deliberately losing, even with how rewarding that will be. Besides, everybody loves a comeback.

It’s difficult to tell who moves first. The staffs collide and both men step back after the impact to avoid a cheap hit and to plan the next move. It’s a cagier strategy from Ravus than Ignis is used to and he comments on it.

“Associating with you has had some benefits,” Ravus says.

“Aww, I’m so flattered I’m tempted to let you win.”

“Or you’re trying to tempt me into doing something reckless.”

“You do excel at that. But truly, I am delighted that you’ve been able to learn from my example.”

“I’d ask how delighted you will be when that education leads to your defeat, but I already know.”

“Yes, this is a rather win-win scenario.” 

Ignis still wants to just plain win. Ravus too. This last point turns into the longest, with a steady pattern of attack and counter that continues until each man is sweating. Ravus brings his strength back into play on swift strike that forces Ignis to switch up his grip. When Ravus tries to press this advantage, Ignis switches up his whole strategy. He did say grappling is allowed.

As Ravus swings, Ignis lunges toward him and hooks his leg around Ravus’s and uses momentum to jerk him off balance and throw him to the ground. It’s normally a graceful maneuver that ends with Ignis standing upright over his fallen foe, but he’s tired, Ravus’s weight is lopsided from his heavy prosthetic, and some other excuse Ignis can’t think of right now because he’s tumbling over too. He lands on top of Ravus’s chest, which should be a point but there’s a problem. In the process of falling, Ignis dropped his staff. Ravus did not, the proof of which is one end of it poking into Ignis’s shoulder.

“What are the rules on this?” Ravus asks.

“I haven’t the foggiest. Never ended a match like this. Although, I am literally on top, so…”

He isn’t for long. Ravus rolls the both of them over and pins Ignis with his staff. He leans in close to say, “Since a winner wasn’t declared the match is ongoing. Or was ongoing. I am on top and in possession of my weapon.”

“Because I stopped fighting. This point is void. We should start over.”

Ravus leans in closer until Ignis is swimming in those mismatched eyes. “Do you really wish to expend your energy settling this by sparring?”

That’s a no. Ravus stands and offers Ignis a hand to help him up. Back on his feet, Ignis retrieves his staff only to chuck it in the general direction of the weapons rack. He’s got business he’s rather in a haste to attend to. Ravus is likewise interested in getting back into the manor quickly. For a man with a leg injury, he has no problem keeping apace with Ignis. He has his good hand on Ignis’s shoulder, but with how his thumb is dipping in and out from Ignis’s collar in rough circles, Ignis doesn’t think it’s to keep his balance. 

Ignis leads the way. Strange for a visitor, but Ignis knows how to get to Ravus’s quarters. He’s gone there enough to do it blindfolded. Has done it blindfolded but that was part of something he doesn’t think they’ll have the patience to set up tonight.

He’s right about the lack of patience. The door to the bedchamber isn’t fully closed when Ravus moves his hand from Ignis’s shoulder down around to his stomach where he takes up a similar task of working his fingers under Ignis’s clothes, this time his waistband. Ravus’s mouth occupies the space where his hand was. His fingers are gentle; his mouth is not. In hard kisses and nips, he works up Ignis’s neck to his earlobe. His breath is warm and the whispered words of what he wants to do to Ignis are full of promise.

Ignis can give in right now and spend the night a happy man. But he really wants that underdog victory. And all those things Ravus is describing with his eloquent tongue are conjuring the sweetest images of Ravus on his back upon his silken sheets, his hips arched up and firmly in Ignis’s grasp.

He steps away. Ravus lets out a disappointed huff that’s silenced when Ignis turns around to kiss him. “Let’s take it slow, hmm?” Ignis purrs between the touches of their lips. It isn’t really fair. Of the two, Ignis is the more, not restrained, but capable of restraint. That’s a contest he wins readily, though he likes to think he uses that to tantalize rather than tease his partner. Normally. Tonight’s special.

“A bit warm in here,” Ignis says.

“There’s an easy solution to that. I believe I was working on it when you interrupted.”

Ravus’s efforts have undone the buckle of Ignis’s belt and the top button of his slacks. A good job for someone working one-handed and distracted. Ignis plans on using both his hands with undivided attention.

Ravus’s raiment has to go first. It’s a heavy thing and it gets tricky around his prosthetic. Ignis has skill and experience and the aid of a man eager to see it off. “I thought I said take it slow,” Ignis says as Ravus tosses it over the back of a chair.

“I didn’t agree to that.”

“Is this more agreeable?”

Ignis runs his hands under Ravus’s shirt and up his chest and resumes kissing him. A muffled groan escapes Ravus’s mouth. Ignis takes that as a yes.

He seeks further agreement, and more than that, a concession. Ignis uses the old and reliable trick of nudging his thigh between Ravus’s legs while he presses in close to his chest - not too close, his hands need room to roam. With that broad chest, there’s a lot of ground to cover. It’s familiar territory and Ignis knows how Ravus prefers to have it traveled. Leisurely trails of fingertips skimming across the skin that get retraced with increasing pressure to start. He usually keeps going until he brings his nails into the mix and the trails turn reddened and raised but Ravus is not having the slow thing tonight at all.

He’s driving Ignis back towards the bed. It’s a high risk/high reward maneuver. High reward in that once on his back, Ignis is going to be sorely tempted to stay there. High risk in that the friction on his thigh from Ravus’s hardening cock is making him ache. He knows full well what it must be doing to Ravus.

“Sp pushy,” Ignis chides. “Don’t you know patience is a virtue?”

“I’m not presently concerned with virtue.”

Neither is Ignis; he’s just caught between their usual vices and wanting to win. He’s not without his own strategies. He never is, even with a mind clouded by the sweet sensation of Ravus’s hand moving lower and lower down his back. Down might be the way to go, Ignis thinks. After all, giving up a little ground now to earn a bigger gain later is a classic tactic for a reason.

Especially when it’s ground Ignis loves to give. “Well, then,” he says “if you insist upon rushing, let’s do something about the rest of these clothes.” It’s not Ravus’s shirt he goes for, but his trousers, working them open and then sliding his hands into them all while keeping his eyes locked with Ravus’s. Trousers, underwear and Ignis all inch towards the floor and though Ravus picks up immediately where this is headed, he doesn’t fight it. Why would he? For as much praise as Ravus has lavished upon Ignis’s way with words, there’s another skill involving his mouth that he values as dearly.

Ignis takes a leisured, continuous lick along the length of Ravus’s cock and by the time he reaches the head, it’s hardened in full. Despite his admonissions against speed, Ignis forgoes any more teasing and takes that head into his mouth, sucking and licking and taking it deeper in as Ravus grunts and his hand, so steady and deliberate before, rubs wildly through Ignis’s hair.

There’s something endlessly gratifying in reducing Ravus, a man who would write a sonnet in response to a yes/no question, to inarticulate moans and cries of Ignis’s name that seldom make it past the first syllable. 

Ignis has done this enough to know when Ravus is about to come. The way his breath hitches, his body tenses, Ignis can read all of it and at this moment, Ignis needs to keep going about a minute longer, but there’s that victory to secure. Ignis pulls away and rocks back on his heels. He has one question to ask and once he gets the answer he’s after, he’ll go back to work and not stop until he’s swallowed and licked clean every drop of semen Ravus has to give him. He’s calculating, not cruel. But the question…

“Yield?” Ignis asks with a wicked surety. Okay, maybe he’s really smug about things too.

But he’s right. Too right. Ravus stoops down to look him in the eyes. His voice is husky and his face flushed from pleasure and it takes him several rapid breaths before he can say, “I yielded my body, my heart, my soul to you years ago. Whatever you wish of me, you need only ask and my entire world will become fulfilling your desire.”

Damn, he had to put it like that. It takes lgnis less than a second to decide. “Oh, just fuck me aleady.”

Here’s where Ravus’s strength is an enormous boon. He scoops Ignis up with his prosthetic arm and shuffle carries him over the rest of the way to the bed in short order only aided by Ignis’s legs wrapped around his waist. He drops Ignis onto the bed and climbs over him. They strip the rest of their clothes off quickly as they can, tugging and pulling and flinging every scrap of cloth without giving a single damn where they land. Ignis thinks one of Ravus’s boots hits a vase but neither of them care. They’re in a real hurry now.

They both reach for the drawer of the table beside the bed and the glass jar (and of course it’s a fancy glass jar because Ravus Nox Fleuret does not deal with plebeian tubes of anything) within. Ignis is grateful for the pretension. The jar’s wide enough that they can both dip their fingers in with Ignis rubbing the viscous gel over Ravus’s erection while the other man slips his fingers between Ignis’s legs and then into him. 

Ignis regrets ever uttering the word slow. Ravus’s fingers move in and around in a purposeful circle, only pulling them out to collect more gel from the jar and then returning to the tortuous ministrations. Ignis is on the verge of begging.

He closes his eyes and begins stroking himself to alleviate some of the pressure. “I thought my wish was your command?” he asks, barely above a whimper.

“It would be a sin not to take you properly.”

“Proper? Do you want a bloody top hat?”

Ravus stops and leans over to plant a chaste kiss on Ignis’s forehead. “Next time, love.”

Ignis would laugh but the feel of his hips being bucked upward and a cock thrusting into him are a bit distracting. His body instinctively matches the rhythm of Ravus’s movement including the slight shift Ravus makes to ensure he hits the right spot deep inside. Hit it he does and Ignis’s hands drop to his sides so he can lay back and simply enjoy how wondrous this feels.

Ravus murmurs something about laziness and having to do all the work but Ignis is beyond caring. He caved on their wager, let the loser enjoy the spoils. Ignis does make the effort to reach up and caress Ravus’s cheek. That draws a smile and a kiss to his palm before Ravus takes Ignis’s hand in his own and redirects them both back to Ignis’s groin. Ravus slows his pace with the change in focus but the last thing Ignis is going to do is complain, not with how delicately his balls are being cupped and fondled.

There’s some more pressure needing release. Loathe as he is to give up the contact, he pushes Ravus’s hand upward. Thankfully Ravus takes the hint and that expert touch switches to thumbing the tip of Ignis’s penis before creeping lightly down the shaft and then making a firmer journey back up.  
Several return trips later and Ignis is done. Ravus doesn’t hold out much longer. Ignis relishes the warm, slick feeling within him though the neatnik part of his brain does wonder how much the staff in charge of washing the linens laments his every visit.

Mirroring that thought, Ravus is doing his part to clean. He’s licking his fingers that Ignis spilled himself on. Once they’re spotless, he pulls out of Ignis to fetch a handkerchief from the drawer to finish the job. He takes a good deal more time than necessary to wipe up but Ignis is not going to complain about such fastidious attention to detail.

Done with the cloth, Ravus flops unceremoniously to the other side of the bed and sprawls out on his back. Ignis takes in the view before curling up beside him. They lay there, drowsy with content, and Ignis enjoys the quiet until he realizes that Ravus is actually falling asleep.  
“Bit early to turn in, isn’t it?” Ignis asks.

“It’s been an exhausting day.”

“I found it stimulating.”

“Precisely the problem. Stimulation leads to exhaustion too easily these days.”

“These days? Are you getting old on me? Going to grow a snowy white beard?”

“I can’t imagine what other color beard I could grow but I’ll take note of your incredulousness and be sure to throw it back in your face in six years.”

Ignis might just have to hold him to that. After that many years together, they’ll be an old married couple. That’s a good future to look forward to, Ignis thinks. It makes him charitable. “You aren’t that ancient. You got one over on me, after all.”

“Our wager? You’re the one who called it.”

“Yes, but after feeding me a line like that…”

That rouses Ravus enough to roll to his side. “You know I only spoke the truth.”

“I know,” Ignis admits. “That’s what made it so damned effective. That and the fact I feel the same.” He leans over to kiss Ravus but a thought strikes him. “You know, since that wasn’t a ploy on your part, technically speaking, we didn’t really settle the bet.”

Ravus rolls his eyes and sinks back into the bed. “At the risk of cane puns and general japery about the elderly, I’ll have to take you up on that tomorrow.” He waits a moment before adding, “Though I fear all this activity has aggravated my injury. Any contest we have, you’ll thoroughly dominate.”

“Bold prediction,” Ignis says. “Though I can see it coming true.” He can see several scenarios in fact. He’ll probably have a few more by the morning. He should let Ravus sleep. He’s going to need to be rested.

Ignis will need sleep too but his mind won’t stop racing. He nestles in against Ravus which really just makes his thoughts racier. It’s not his fault. Ravus did specify ‘thorough’ and Ignis hates to disappoint as much as he loves a challenge. 

That’s the beauty of their relationship. Ignis always has someone who will keep him on his toes.

And on his back, on his stomach, on his knees, sometimes on all fours…

**Author's Note:**

> The majority of this was written while I was struggling with rewrites on chapter seven of my Fleurentia longfic Better Angels, with said chapter also containing a lot of dialogue between Ignis and Ravus but being the polar opposite in terms of content and tone. I finally got around to finishing it while doing the rewrite thing again for chapter ten. 
> 
> From strife, comes porn...or something like that.
> 
> At least I got to let the guys have some fun for a change.


End file.
